Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head
by mortianna
Summary: Harry Potter is the teacher here, trying to teach Severus Snape and Ron Weasley something about living as Muggles. The professor is quite intrigued and teaches Harry some things too. (PG13/R, HP/SS-RW) Complete!
1. Default Chapter

Another silly piece out of the seemingly bottomless Potter verse.

The idea that started it popped up on a bike tour. Suddenly I was giggling madly (not so uncommon with me:-) with the thought of Severus Snape on a bike, robes billowing etc.

But I had no idea how to put him there.

Then I read some stuff by Cybele, where she puts Harry and Snape and Ron into a bottle, and doesn't really care to tell how they got there (I love that story, btw, Cybele, and especially your way of Severus being not so sure how he got into it all, bloody brilliant, and not just a bit Slytherin, I think:-) It's here, go read it!

http://www.sockiipress.org/~luthien/snapeff/archive/retreat.html

The story brought all kinds of images to mind and from Jeannie, living in a bottle, it was not so very far to Newman and Redford, the heroes of a very nice film with a sad ending. 

I added another device of the readings of my childhood, where the action takes place. So beware: extreme insight into the sorry pictures that haunt a twisted mind.

And to hell with plot!:-)

***************************

Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head

"Yes Professor, you can do it. That's just fine".

Harry Potter tried to convey calm confidence and nothing more with his voice. But it was not easy. Seeing Professor Severus Snape in this awkward position and not laugh one's head off, was really hard. 

But he tried to be a good teacher. What was more than could be said of some other people he knew. 

He shot Ron a glance. His friend clearly hadn't his moral superiority. He tried to suppress his roaring laughter by biting into his hand, but to no avail.

The face of the Professor got even stonier. 

"You're sure that we have to do this, Potter?"

Harry allowed himself a smirk. He was the Boy Who Lived. But no saint. Really. He was 17 years old and had the teacher who had been torturing him for nearly 7 of them at his mercy. Nobody could expect of him that he hid his feeling as well as the old bat did, couldn't they.

Surely not.

"Professor Dumbledore told us, Sir", Harry replied cheerfully. "I'm only doing what he told me to do".

A dark glance of utter venom. "Which has always been your specialty, Potter, has it not? To do what you are told?"

Harry smirked even more. He couldn't refrain from it, the sight was just too much for him.

"You can't talk, really, Professor".

The best of it was, that, strictly speaking, Snape was not his teacher anymore. Not at the moment.

Harry was the teacher on this special task. Afterwards, when Snape would have learnt, they were supposed to work as equals. Which was something. More than there had ever been before. 

But for this glorious if short-lived moment, he allowed himself to relish the feeling that for once he was the master and Snape the pupil.

Snape shot Harry a look that would have killed him a few years ago. Now he knew that the Potions master was venomous, yes, but didn't bite nearly as much as he barked.

At least he hadn't done so until now.

Which was something. His last remark had been quite impertinent, he knew it.

But really, Snape was a very bad student.

"Look at Ron, Professor. He's just doing fine".

Of course now Ron would show off a little. Couldn't be helped. He had had his fair share of abuse by Snape. 

And not Harry's amiable temper. 

And not the – advantage of having worked with Snape apart from class earlier.

And Ron was not the teacher here, but only Snape's fellow student. 

All of which worked together in Ron showing off shamelessly that at this special task he was a lot better than the Potions master.

Harry couldn't bring himself to feel quite sorry for Snape.

Not that the old bat would have wanted anything like that, either.

Many things had changed with the wars going on and on and on and the latest final failure of Voldemort to return to his old power. But not that Severus Snape would have the head of any person that offered him as much as a sympathetic glance.

And so none did.

It would be no small wonder if all of them survived the order Dumbledore had given them.

It had been difficult enough with only Harry and Snape involved. But now Ron had come into that already unstable mix and added the fuse. 

The shadows became darker, looming ominously around Snape as Ron showed his long time teacher how well he could do what Snape only just about managed – not.

'Whoops', Harry thought. 'Down again.'

"Don't worry, Professor", he shouted over the yard. "You are doing better and better".

The answer was a murderous glare of Snape, straightening his back, assembling all his joints and robes and setting to the task again. 

Persistent little bugger, he was. Harry gave him credit for that.

He showed him a thumbs-up.

Snape cocked that eyebrow. He could see it clearly, far away as Snape was.

"Spare me, Mr. Potter", Snape said with that voice that was so low, yet clearly audible. 

Harry just about managed not to shiver. Visibly.

That voice of Snape should come with a surgeon general's warning, he had often thought. It might be dangerous to children and pregnant women alike. But nobody had taken care of that. Especially not at Hogwarts.

He tried to make his most cheerful yet long-suffering face. The Boy Who Could Do No Harm.

He heard Snape growl. Positively. That man was a menace to society, much more so than Remus had ever been, even before the Wolfsbane potion.

"Potter". Really, the man could do things to a word, a name, that were simply – obscene. Harry felt like being stabbed and torn open and dissected. He shivered.

The worst part of it was that it didn't feel exactly bad.


	2. chapter 2

He managed not to jump when The Spy Who Came Out Of the Dungeons resumed talking.

"Spare me that cheery encouragement you seem to be so fond of. Believe me: I never used that in my class room for a reason". 

More glaring and then the robes billowed and the man started anew.

Harry heaved his shoulders and exchanged a glance with Ron.

Then both chuckled and Ron even laughed out loud as Professor Snape fell flat on his face. Again.

Harry walked over to him despite his conviction that doing so would bring him into mortal danger.

Dumbledore expected that from him. And he was not the one to disappoint the old headmaster. He knew it was childish, but he felt a rather strong sentiment for the old wizard. Thankfulness. Admiration. Love, even.

If that meant he would be killed by Snape in order to fulfil his duty to Dumbledore, so be it.

Harry still had his moments of juvenile histrionics.

He offered the fallen dark figure a hand. 

Of course Snape didn't take it. 

Even lying on his back, in the dust, the voluminous black robes all around him covered with red sand and tiny stones and bits, hand bruised and shaking with anger, the instrument he tried to get a hang of lying near him, gleaming and looking as if mocking him for his disability to manage it, Severus Snape was still a very impressive man.

Harry felt the by now familiar tear in his groin when he looked at that nose. Beaky, hawk-like, long. 

He felt the constriction in what had some time been a well-functioning throat, as he looked at the long black hair, tangled, and covered with that red sand and even some leaves for good measure.

He felt his lips itch with the want to touch when he looked at those slim lips, pursed to hurl invective at him.

And he felt his heart beat like mad when his eyes met the dark hooded gaze of those liquid livid black – now, eyes was a word that didn't express it properly. Not even came close.

Nothing new here. He had been feeling like this in the presence of Snape for some time now. And only sometimes did he think that he had liked it better earlier on. When everything had been clear and cool as glass between them.

Most hated teacher – most beloved student.

Hated each other with a venom.

Yes. That had been easy. 

He had been a child.

Harry didn't actually recall one moment in time as being the one that changed everything. There was not an outstanding drama of some kind he could lay his finger on and say: That was it. One moment I hated him and the next moment I loved him.

No.

That would have been far too easy.

His feelings shifted, oscillated between the labels people put on them. 

He wasn't sure he had any clue whatsoever what love meant. Or hate. 

He only knew that he had become quite used to feeling shaken in very different ways than before, when he was near Snape. 

Not to mention think about the man at night and ...

Well, that would not do. His feelings for the man might have changed. But Snape would bite his head off as easy as that if he wasn't very careful indeed and hid whatever it was he thought he felt about him.

Now there. That had been good, hadn't it? Now he had hidden any feeling under so many layers of obscurity, even he himself wasn't sure where they were and if they could be retrieved.

Much better condition to be in when about to allow the man to let out some of the humiliation he surely felt and had been able to keep to himself for the astonishing time of nearly an hour.

And he did. Let it out.

Severus Snape pushed himself up until he rested on his elbows and managed a murderous glare at the boy who stood in front of him. The change of positions didn't seem to strike him as humorous. No. Quite on the contrary.

"Potter". That dark velvet threat again. "This is utterly ridiculous. I simply won't do this anymore. We will have to find another way of looking like Muggles".

Ron joined them and circled around, showing off some more. His red hair was gleaming in the sun, his blue eyes sparkled. 

"Oh come on, Prof", he yelled cheerily. "It is fun. You could use some of that, couldn't you?" 

Harry shot Ron a warning glance through his glasses. Being out of Hogwarts and not Snape's pupil for once, had brought the Redhead into a joyful mood that could only be called insolent. And would, no doubt, by Snape.

Who now diverted his eyes from Harry and turned the dark gaze on Ron.

Harry couldn't help feeling bereaved for a moment and even being jealous of Ron.

He was so sick. He knew it.

"Mr. Weasley, I may not be the teacher here, but I am still YOUR teacher at Hogwarts and I can assure you that my memory doesn't fail me in the least. You can look forward to quite a bit of detention when we get back."

Ron stared at him. "If we get back".

Silence fell. Nobody wanted to think about that right now.

Harry sighed. Ron sure had his ways. He was his best friend alright, but sometimes he thought a hippogriff had more sense and sensibility.

"We're not going to talk about that right now, Ron", he admonished his friend, giving him a really bad look he had borrowed from Snape. Ron looked at him with eyes big and blue and staring.

Well, nothing new here.

Harry turned to the professor.

"See, Professor, it's really easy. You have to give yourself over a bit. Trust it, you know? It's not so very different from broomstick riding. And you can do that, can't you?"

Glaring, oh that glaring. Harry wouldn't let his shivers interfere with his duty. 

Gods, when had he begun to think like Snape? Well, how he thought Snape thought? 

That simply wouldn't do.

He had to hold his wits together, for the fight and all. 

Most of all for the task directly at hand. There didn't seem to be another way. Snape just couldn't do it on his own. He had to help him. 

What a sacrifice, really.


	3. chapter 3

He picked up the bike lying near the professor and held it. 

He glared at Ron and Snape alike. This wouldn't be easy. They would try to fight him. Fight his authority. For very different reasons. But he had to do it. And he would.

He straightened his spine and pushed his dark unruly hair out of his eyes with a move of his head. 

"Come on, Snape", he said rather matter of factly, reaching out his hand again to the teacher. "You have to learn that. I'll help you."

Black black eyes. And a growl. "And just how, Mr. Potter, are you about to help me?"

Since when was the word "help" an insult? Snape surely made it one, rolling it around in his mouth, letting it slip over his tongue, eating it, drinking it, nibbling at it.

- No Harry, stop it. No thinking of mouths and tongues here. Oh my god. - 

He licked his lips, unwittingly. He had always done that. There was nothing new to that.

"You do not seem to be able to hold your equilibrium", Harry said. "So if we do it together, you can get used to the feeling, while I do it for you."

It hadn't sounded so idiotic in his mind. But it rather did now.

Snape stared at him. 

"Harry, you can't mean it". That was Ron, of course. He was yelling in what was not too difficult to interpret as disgust.

Harry shot his friend another Snape glance. He got rather used to doing that. Got to understand Snape better, as it was. It was really not so easy to get some teaching done with Ron shouting and mouthing about.

"Of course I mean it". 

He turned from his friend to his teacher. 

Snape just stared.

And opened his mouth.

Suddenly, it became quite hot in and around Harry.

"And just how, Mr. Potter, are you going to do it for me?"

"Ergh", said Harry.

He hadn't thought about the technical details. He never did. He just had a vision and followed it.

Hm. Snape had a point in asking, of course.

"Well I kind of thought I do the actual pedalling and you just hold on to me, er, the bike, and get used to it".

Rather idiotic. Of course.

Snape looked at him. And gave a grunt. A laugh? Merlin, help.

"I've been desperately looking forward to a chance of coming as close to you as that for years, Mr. Potter."

Harry felt that he turned a rather interesting shade of red. If only …

Ron gave a gasp. Without turning around, Harry just knew how he looked: Furious. And of course, Ron never was the one to hide his feelings. 

Harry looked down and tried to retrieve his breath under the onslaught of images that insisted on haunting his mind of Snape and himself, close together and doing quite interesting things, while Ron sputtered: "You mean and evil … I don't know how you can stand the thought of actually coming that close to him, Harry, but I just damn well won't stand here and let you be insulted by the greasy git for your offer. Look here, Snape, Harry has already been showing you more patience and good-will than ever he got from you over all these years. And you are rather ridiculously unskilled in that, I have to tell you. So you are not only a bad teacher but a bad student, too. But you are not the teacher now, here, and I'm not going to listen to your insults to Harry, even if he is too damned well-mannered to say anything."

Ron panted and shivered with his righteous indignation.

Harry had been rather lost in his own thoughts, but even he was reached by a notion that this time Ron had really done himself in. Surly Snape couldn't let him get away with that. Even if he had no poison at hand just now, and couldn't very well deduce points from Gryffindor for insolence, he still had his wand. And he had been a death eater. He knew some curses, for sure, that would turn Ron into something quite interesting without leaving a trace. 

He looked at Ron, who seemed to have belatedly come to his senses and looked as if he was about to faint. But stood his stand, of course. This Ronald Weasley, as ridiculously hot-headed and clueless he often seemed, was the same who had played a deadly game of Wizards Chess in first year that had been invented by a very much older wizard. And won.

This Ronald Weasley now was awaiting his death at the hands of Snape standing and with his chin raised defiantly.

Severus Snape got up on his feet in a languid but quite quick movement and without using any hand whatsoever. In a slithering slide he was over Ron. Towering, glowering. 

Same old game as every time, Harry thought. But he looked rather impressive, even after seven years of trying to get used to it. 

Ron swallowed visibly.

Harry looked on breathlessly.

Snape lowered his head to the red face of the red head in the same manner as always. Fast, unbelievably fast, and fluent.

Curious, really, that a man who seemed to be so at home in his body, could use it so carelessly, wasn't able to ride a simple Muggle's bike. 

Curious indeed.

Ron nearly choked as the head of the Potions master came nearer and nearer and the long angular face with the aquiline nose nearly hit his. 

Harry felt a pang of envy as deeply green as the house colour of Slytherin when Snape's long black tresses seemed to nearly touch Ron's face.

He was so dead. It was sick to feel that way. To be envious of Ron because he was tortured by Snape. Really. 

He'd be better off dead.

But he looked on as if his life depended on it. What it rather did.

Snape cocked that impressive eyebrow. And said: "Jealous, Mr. Weasley?"

Harry nearly choked on a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. 

Ron gulped and then screamed out. He was even more furious than before. And couldn't keep quiet, of course. He yelled to the back of the Potions master, who had turned around as if finished with his combatant: "You …" and then was at a loss for words.

Harry noticed that Snape gave a very wry grin as Ron stopped. 

Then all he noticed was the rather impressive and overwhelming closeness of Snape. 

He felt like he was drowning in those black eyes and his last rope to life was the velvet voice of Snape who asked him: "Now, Mr. Potter, just how are you going to do me? To help keeping my equilibrium? Impressive word, by the way".

Harry gulped again and felt that he never had heard of the word, never known how to write it, let alone had anything the like. 

The thought of being close to Snape, holding him, and at the same time pretending to be anything like calm and composed and in, yes well, dammit, equilibrium, was completely out of the world.

Of course he had to try after bringing himself in such a situation which was completely uncalled for.

He was not only dead, he was a complete idiot to boot.


	4. chapter 4

Nevertheless he mounted the bike. He had always gotten Dudley's old bikes, which was every month or so, and they had been completely run down by his cousin. He had become used early on to adverse circumstances and he was not to let that disturb him now. The bike was just fine. He had to adjust it a little to their special needs, though.

He circled the glaring professor, thinking of just how to do it. 

He pulled his wand and jumped off the bike in mid motion. Snape shot him a glance with something in it that he suddenly felt to be – to resemble something like – admiration? That couldn't be. He stumbled over his own feet as soon as he hit the ground. He was never clumsy with his feet off the ground, but very often when down.

That surely must mean something and Hermione would have told him exactly what it was. But Hermione was not here just now. Snape was and he surely hadn't done any such thing as looking at him with a positive feeling, but was waiting for him to make a complete idiot out of himself, as always.

And he could do that, as always, and would. Even more so with Snape – touching him. 

- Ye Gods! -

He came back from his reverie and looked at the bike thoughtfully. Some minor adjustments, here and there, and it might just work out. Technically, that was. For all the other things involved, he couldn't speak just yet. 

He pointed his wand at the bike and a second pair of pedals came into being. He flicked the wand again and the handlebar elongated up into the air. He pointed at the saddle and that grew, too.

Okay, that would do. At least he hoped so. He would just have to make up other things as they came along.

He breathed carefully. Deep. In. Out. 

- No. Please. Not these thoughts again. Not just now. -

Breathing was the activity that was called for. Nothing else. 

He jumped on the bike and rode along the place to get acquainted to the new measurements. That was at least what he told himself.

When his breathing and other bodily functions had calmed down enough for his immediate satisfaction, he stopped the bike in front of Snape.

- Calm and quiet. No mischief anywhere. Look extremely innocent. No, not too much. He'll only become suspicious. Extremely suspicious. -

"Come on, Professor. Your turn to learn something."

Black eyes filled with deep suspicion. 

Slid over Harry, burned into him, bore into him. 

He did not shudder. Just in time before he was about to faint, the black eyes were on the bike.

Blinked.

A sound. "Harry, you can't mean it".

Desperate. Ron.

That seemed to be incentive enough for Snape. 

He took a few steps that brought him to the bike. And Harry.

That look. Again. 

"And where do you want me, Potter?"

- Oh god. Anywhere. -

"Er, let's try in front first? So that you can see where we're heading?"

The eyebrow. 

- No that doesn't mean what it looks. Surely not. No need to get excited. None of us in this body, right?! - 

"As you wish, Potter. You're the boss here".

Silk. Low. That much was old. But - subordination? Acknowledging that Harry was the leader?

Unthinkable. 

And he wouldn't go there right now.

Again he reached out a hand to Snape. He had a feeling that he had done nothing else the whole day.

Ron clearly didn't like it. Harry caught a glimpse of his best friend. His jaw was literally hanging down. 

Harry couldn't care less just now.

He was more interested in holding the bike at bay that insisted on wiggling about with the desperate movements of Snape trying to get on it.

And then he managed. All the air in Harry escaped with a soft sound as the back of the Potions master hit his forefront. He tried hard to hold on – to the bike, to the ground and to his salvation.

No, this didn't mean anything. It was sports, nothing else. And the closeness of a body that he had been drooling over for years didn't mean that his body ought to react.

Simply not. Damned.

He tried to adjust and hold the bike upright. Not so easy under the onslaught of sensations.

Snape's black hair tickling his nose. Snape's smell, too. Snape's robe scratching his bare arms. Snape's body in his arms, between his legs. 

Snape. That close. 

- Ohmygod.- 

That was really his most idiotic idea ever. He would die of humiliation, of embarrassment, of a very sudden and painful death at the hands of the Potions master when that something he felt stirring again in his groin would grow any further and come to the notice of Snape.

'But perhaps it would be worth it.'

- Simply not. -

'Just think of the bike.'

- Too late. -

The bike, Snape and Harry all together landed on the earth in a complete mess. 

It felt – good. Though it hurt some. And Harry just hoped that Snape took an outstanding part of his anatomy as a part of the bike. The consistence was nearly the same.

- Damn it. -

Snape's face was directly above him, his frame pressed Harry's smaller one down and the bike was somewhere in between.

Harry thought he must have died and gone to heaven.

Those lips opened directly before his. "Was that what you had in mind in teaching me hold my equilibrium, Mr. Potter? I am quite impressed. I understand you consider it the embodiment of progress, for me to fall to the earth with you and the bike instead of only with the bike? Yes, it really feels distinctly better". 

And he gave him that eyebrow again. Harry doubted very much that Snape had taken his anatomy for part of the bike. He blushed deeply. 


	5. chapter 5

"Harry, that is ridiculous". Ron. Again. He was here, alright. Harry hadn't thought of his friend for quite some time.

"Shut up, Ron". He really could not think of Ron, now. He had enough to do with himself and Snape, thank you very much.

"Oh, okay". Ron sounded definitely hurt. "I'll be here, somewhere, just when you come off that ridiculous idea".

And off he was, riding his bike in a way that clearly showed his hurt feelings.

Dark eyes. The eyebrow. There was no room for anything beside that in his vision. 

"We'll try the other way around. You're still taller than me. It will be easier".

"If you say so".

It was very strange indeed, to have Snape talking so subdued. Not altogether unpleasant, though. But Harry couldn't escape the thought that Snape simply waited his turn. His turn to cut his head off with a meat axe the moment Harry had to admit that he couldn't teach him a thing.

But try he would. And die trying if needs be. He was a Gryffindor, after all.

Snape had been lying on him for quite a while now. Not that he felt the urge to protest. But they had a task to accomplish, had they not? One that wouldn't be accomplished with him lying on the earth and Snape on top of him.

Well, not really.

"Would you get off of me?"

It didn't feel exactly bad, though, but still.

"If you wish".

And with one fluid movement the professor was gone. Harry felt very much lighter. He could breathe better. And felt curiously lonely.

Ridiculous. Ron was perfectly right. Even if he didn't know the real thing. The thing beneath the appearance of things. Ron never did.

Thank god.

Harry got up with some difficulty. He willed his shaking knees to work again. And mounted the bike.

Riding around, alone, again.

Coming to a halt near Snape, again. 

Snape getting on the bike again. This time behind Harry. Touching him at the waist. Pressing against him. Gripping his hips and clinging to him.

And pressing something into him that made Harry blush even more and his eyes pop open and his mouth gasp.

That really couldn't be. That couldn't be what it felt like.

No.

Simply not.

Harry clung to the handlebar as if for dear life. His own body reacted in a way that made it even more difficult to sit on the saddle, much more sharing it.

Think of the task, think of Voldemort, think of Dumbledore, McGonagall, together, think of Crabbe and Goyle with a mountain troll.

Okay, that was enough. 

Harry took a deep breath and tried to just ignore the feeling of Snape's body pressed to his backside.

All of Snape's body, even if he was not completely sure. The bastard managed to keep his body just at that distance for Harry to only think he felt something, not really be sure he felt – it.

Which was hard enough for his mind to settle. It didn't settle at all. This could change everything. He knew he had a crush on Snape for some years now. He had given in to the fact some months ago. 

But that Snape could have anything the like – for him – had simply never entered his mind.

As it now did. With some force.

And try as Harry might, this idea alone brought images with it, images of such splendour and beauty, images which evoked feelings so strong, that the sane part of his, the down to earth one, the dutiful one, oh damned, he hurt with longing. 

And down they went again.

Tangle of limbs, flesh, robes, arms, legs, bike.

This time, Harry was on top. Trying desperately not to hump Snape's leg. His hip, anything, any part of that body.

Trying to just not embarrass himself further by snuggling against that gorgeous form, of which he had only had a tempting hint of a touch. One that haunted him, tortured him, made him long for more. More. Oh please.

- Damned. That will not do. -

He couldn't look at the man. Simply couldn't. His eyes would betray him. They always did. Snape had often seemed to know what he was thinking. 

Well, if that notion was more than just pure mad mania, there was no need to hide anything anymore by now, was there?

He had been having these feelings for Snape for some time.

And if he was right about the feeling that had led to their most recent downfall, Snape was at least – interested.

Well, that was more than he had ever hoped for, really.

So why try to hide? He had lived in the cupboard long enough.

If they were to die on this mission, and Snape told him with his last dying breath that he could have had him, he would be sorry ever after, in the afterlife and all. He would become a ghost, to haunt the dungeons and the potions classroom. A sorry creature trying to make love to the vials and boring everyone to death with his knowledge of life and the failures that lay in not doing what one wanted to do as long as one could just out of fear of rejection.

Jesus Christ! What a really horrible outlook. Moaning Myrtle looked like a really sane creature in comparison to the one he would become.

Harry pressed his groin to the hip of the Potions master. Not for so very long, but long enough to leave an impression.

At least he hoped so. And by the flickering of those black pools, and the fact that Snape didn't kill him right away, he thought he was right.

"Impressive, Potter, impressive".

Dark silk, menace. 

Harry blushed even more. But held the eye contact. That had always been his strong point. 

"There surely is method behind your madness. I'll talk to the headmaster about this when we get home."

- What? -

Snape made that face that with him was to be considered a grin.

"He'll be as impressed as I am with your teaching methods and will surely make you defence against the dark arts teacher, even while you're still a student".

- Bastard! -

But that was an interesting idea. Really, if their – relationship - progressed at that pace, he would like to stay at Hogwarts. And he would be good as DADA teacher. He at least had some recent knowledge of dark arts. Which was more than could be said of the sorry person that held the position at the moment. She wasn't wanted or needed at the ministry in times of peril, that was all there was to say about her.

"Thank you", Harry managed to say and stay calm. 

"You're welcome", Snape said with that smirk. "And you'll be even more welcome if you let me get up again. I have no special relationship with mother earth that forces me to fall down to embrace and worship her every other minute."

"Oh", said Harry. Had that been a joke? It had sounded like one.

"It looked like you had".

"Insolent brat".

Snape had called him that since first year, but it had never sounded like a - caress?

Harry gulped and got up. With regret and against his will, but still. The bike did hurt a little, really.

Snape got up too. His gaze only washed over Harry, which was enough to make him feel hot as hell, then wandered to the bike.

"Mr. Potter, you'll surely allow me, after my recent experience with your teaching, to add something?"

Harry just about managed to nod.

"I think your idea of making me learn to hold my - equilibrium - is quite right. The problem seems to be the relative closeness that is necessary for the task. You and I are not used to getting that close. But we sure won't let that get in the way of our task, will we?"


	6. chapter 6

Harry managed to nod again. He would not trust his voice. Was it just him, or had Snape's voice become even more seducing and his words – just plain equivocal? 

The dark eyes bore into his, then the dark head nodded. 

"I thought so". With a flourish he got out his wand and pointed it to the bike. The poor inanimate object got another saddle, and another handlebar.

Harry looked dumbfounded.

"That is plain damn brilliant".

"Thank you Mr. Potter. That I live to hear praise of you is extremely satisfactory".

Harry snorted. He simply had too. That the man was not only sexy but had a sense of humour, too, was the surprise of the year. Not an unpleasant one, at that.

"I've seen things like that on TV", he said. "They are made especially for people who are helpless, blind, or something. The good one sits behind, the other one in front."

A snort by the other man. "I'm pleased that I have done something that the Muggle world has already invented. And how very appropriate in the situation, don't you think? The good one, as you put it so admirably correct, sitting behind and the bad one in front? I don't have to ask who I am to be, do I ?"

Harry blushed deeper and deeper. 

"We'll have to mount the bike together". He had decided to just not answer the banter about good and bad. That hit on too many feelings and memories he could do without just now. And he was sure Snape too. 

The eyebrow. "Then let's do it together, by all means, Mr. Potter".

Snape stood in front of Harry, beside the first saddle and couldn't see the deep blushing of the boy. For which Harry was quite grateful.

"Just mount the bike in your time, Professor. I'll try and get the feel of it and just do as you do."

If it had been possible, Harry would have blushed even further. Had he just spoken his marriage vows, or what? How on earth had he become that submissive to Snape? 

Thankfully, the other man didn't turn around to freeze Harry with a stare. Harry had only the sight of the black robe fluttering, as if his owner was shaking somehow. 

He endured it. 

And watched Snape intensely. He wouldn't miss the right moment. He didn't want to mess up again.

And he didn't. He more felt than saw Snape get on the bike and followed without thinking. And they did it. They hit it off this time. Snape got the hang of it and they rode around the place with uniform movements.

Harry for one was overwrought with joy. He couldn't see Snape's face, which was a definite loss. The position had its drawbacks. He nearly laughed his head off about himself. If someone would have told him not so long ago that he would think a position in which he couldn't see Snape's face as being worse for it, he would have sent the fool to St. Mungo's. 

As it was, he gave encouraging sounds, much like in a Quidditch game to his team. He stopped pedalling, just to see if Snape could do it on his own now. 

And he could. 

Could do it so good, in fact, that he managed to turn his head and bark at Harry: "Much as I can understand your joy in having done your first teacher job quite well, I'd rather prefer that you stop making those noises directly into my ear. They are noises that shouldn't be heard in public, I assume".

Harry didn't bother with blushing once again. He was on a high. He had taught Snape something, had found the right way, and now they were flying, together, making the same movements, were near each other, alone. 

Well, quite alone.

Ron must be there somewhere.

"Come on, Professor", Harry leant forward to catch Snape's ear. "You have heard me making these noises. You had the infinite misfortune of watching me defeat your precious Slytherins more than once. To my great misery, of course". 

He breathed into Snape's ear a little more than was exactly called for. He enjoyed it quite a lot. More so when he discovered that the fingerbreadth of flesh at Snape's neck, that was bared through his hair flying in the wind, sported goose pimples after he had breathed onto it.

Yes. Harry Potter was quite satisfied with the results of this lesson. The glance Snape shot him and the soft and mellow murmur of him that sounded very much like: "admirable cheek that won't go unpunished" only added to his satisfaction. And to the shivers that seemed to have taken hold of his body again without warning.

Suddenly it got very dark. 

Dark. Cold. Stormy. Thunder. Lightning. Heavy rain. 

Shit.

They were soaking wet in an instant and the weight the Professor's robes now had, threatened to bring them down to earth once again. 

Harry leant into Snape. "That shed, over there, where the bikes belong, quickly". 

And they pedalled over the open place, thunder and lightning threatening and marking their path.

They jumped off the bike which astonishingly enough didn't bring any of them down to earth again, face first. They opened the shed and brought in Snape's bike. Harry ran off once again to get his bike. When he returned, Ron was in too. Extremely wet and extremely pissed off. He turned his back on Harry in a very demonstrative fashion. 

"Good", said Harry. "As you wish". He had known Ron for a very long time now. He really wasn't good in socialising. As hard as it was for him to be second after Potter, just as he was only 6th in the Weasley family, it was too much for him, to come second after anyone in Harry's favour. Ron couldn't do anything against it, and Harry would be damned if he tried. Ron would come around, eventually, he always did. And just at the moment he was much more interested in the other wet man in the shed.

Very much more. And only with a thin line to cross. And Ron was not making things any better with his childish behaviour. Made him jump into the well into which he would have only stared longingly otherwise.


	7. chapter 7

He walked over to the other side of the shed. There were stacks of material Harry didn't know neatly piled. It looked like something that grew in the fields, and it looked quite scratchy.

Snape was sitting on one of the stacks, having removed his robe and overcoat, which were lying beneath him. Harry was hit by the oddness of the situation. This was really the first time he saw the man in pants and shirt only.

He liked what he saw. The shirt was nearly transparent from the rain, and showed a nicely muscled torso and arms. Harry would never have thought that this potions stirring bore such tonus. But certainly Snape could have brewed a potion to enhance muscles, for all he knew.

The hair was dripping wet too and clung to the face. But just when Harry watched, Snape shook the black mass back and combed it with his fingers. Out of the face, and back. 

The profile looked breath-taking. Harry couldn't remember when he had last breathed. He surely hadn't done while watching.

The bastard showed off. He was sure of it. And it worked. To see the formerly completely unreachable man so devoid of his usual shutters, his layers and layers of clothing and the hair hiding his face, made Harry ache. 

He took a breath, after all. Who knew when he would need it.

Now Snape looked up to Harry. "Everything under control, Mr. Potter?"

- Control. I wish. -

"Er, yes". 

"I really admire your grasp of language, Potter."

"Oh shut up". Harry was fed up with all this fencing. It had its highlights, no doubt, but having Snape ridicule him, when they had already been quite close, hurt him. And made him angry.

He walked over to Snape and sat down near him. Close, but not that close. 

Close enough to feel the heat of the man. 

Sweet Merlin. The body temperature of the man could dry him and his clothes in minutes. If only …

He blushed deeply. 

And even more when he noticed that Snape had watched his features changing colours and all. 

"Indeed, Potter. I trust you justify your rudeness with my rubbing off on you?"

That did it. Really, the man asked for it. Harry did away with his sanity and hope of salvation and jumped on the man.

He held him down with muscles that were earned in an honest way and felt Snape tremble under him.

It felt like nothing before. 

"I take it that rubbing was a word that caught your fancy, Mr. Potter?"

The bastard still managed to talk to him like that, even while he could feel him rise distinctly against himself. 

"Quite", Harry agreed. "If that was necessary after all your talk over the day".

The eyebrow. 

"Well, Mr. Potter, I admit to being quite intrigued with your eager fantasy. But my talking surely was not as unequivocal as your – deeds".

"Who cares a damn?", asked Harry and leant down to the man. He first brushed, then pressed his lips to those of the other man. 

Very good. 

When they parted, both were panting and their wet clothes steaming, especially around their groins.

Green and black eyes locked and then hands were around Harry' head and pulled him close again. 

And then Snape showed Harry what he thought of the whole thing. After that kiss Harry just melted into the other man, all pretence at coherent thought or speech gone. He would be satisfied to die here, lying on Snape, pressed into him, feeling him all over.

Well, if he was dying real soon, then perhaps a little more action was required to make him die a really happy and satisfied man instead of a scared child.

He rubbed his lower parts against the corresponding part of the anatomy of the man under him.

Both gave a deep groan that made the rubbing parts even harder in response.

Harry's head fell down into the neck of Snape. He mustered the power to nibble at the soft flesh. Hot sparks rushed through his body. Hands were rubbing his back, his lower back, his buttocks, pressing him closer and closer and …

Letting go.

Harry nearly cried out loud with disappointment.

He felt Snape chuckle into his hair. It tickled nicely. He took revenge by licking the ear of the Potions master. Snape moaned.

Harry's part to chuckle. Then a strong hand grabbed his shoulder. 

"Stop it, Potter".

"You can't be serious. Stop, now? Please …"

"I have to admit I feel quite flattered by your youthful eagerness. But as I am the grown up here, I take upon me the duty to remind you that besides the obvious reasons for not doing this, there is a reason for not doing it just now and here."

Harry tried to transport this speech from his ears to what remained from his brains as fast as possible and process the meaning of it. 

"Ron?"

"Exactly, Potter. The wonderful Mr. Weasley is not far off and will surely hear us, if the noises with which you had the kindness to reward my ministrations until now are but a sample. Not to mention he could come over any minute because of some new invective he wants to hurl at either one of us".

Harry giggled. He simply loved Snape when he talked like that. Especially when he felt that velvet voice rumble in the chest beneath and breathe into his ear and most of all feel distinctly against his hip that Snape was not completely adverse to the idea as such, but only spoke the words of caution as he felt was his duty as the older one.

And his duty as the young and reckless one was something completely different.

He bit into Snape's ear and nibbled his way along to the collarbone, tongue licking every now and then at the enticingly intoxicating flesh.

Gods! He could get used to doing nothing else than just that. What a picture! Potions with the Slytherins and Harry Potter sitting near Snape at the desk and nibbling at him, while the teacher tried to look his sternest and teach. 

Or under the desk …

Harry's grip onto the shoulders of Snape became deadly. He did not plan on loosening that grip any time soon.

No. No way.

"I don't care, you hear me?", he whispered feverishly into the ear that already showed traces of his nibbling. "I don't care if he comes over and watches and screams the whole time. If needs be we can hex him not to tell anybody."

Snape went rigid beneath him. His hands came to Harry's head again and held it at a distance which made looking into each other's eyes easier.

"Really, Mr. Potter. You would hex your best friend just for the chance of doing indecent and completely inappropriate things with the greasy potions teacher? I fear that hat has put you into the wrong house. It should be superseded by a less theatrical method."

Harry saw no sense in telling Snape that the hat had wanted to put him into Slytherin. It was not so important just now.

There were other things that had to be said. Before there remained nothing to be said, hopefully.

"Yes", he murmured into that enticing ear again, "I would. And I would even cast an Obliviate or let you give him a potion to rid him of the memory if that makes you do it. Now. Please!"

There wasn't a thing that he could do, of course. Or say to make Snape lose it and do it.

The body under him staid rigid. All of it, which held Harry's hopes high. 

Darkness bore into him, spreading all through him while the black eyes of Snape seemed bound on dragging the truth out of him.

He felt quite good with that. He had never loved the light, really.

He released another long-held breath when he felt one hot hand on his back again. 

Snape's voice rumbled through him and made him shiver from the ears downwards.

"As the irredeemable Slytherin that I am, I can't resist the temptation to giving in to the urgent call of a pristine Gryffindor to corrupt him. So be it".

And the hot mouth and the wet tongue were on him and in him and his clothes came off and everything was wonderful and the world turned upside down and the hay was not scratchy at all, but soft and warm and cosy and it was amazing, Snape was amazing, and he himself was too and it was over all too soon and then it began anew and he whined like a baby and Snape made noises he would never have thought him capable of and neither one knew how much time had elapsed when they lay panting near each other, hand in hand and trying to come to again.

There was a noise.

"You were right, Snape". 

Ron came rustling to their side. He touched the bare white shoulder of the professor. "I was jealous. I'll be damned if I know of whom, exactly. But I'll be even more damned if I lie here and pretend not to listen and not to be – disturbed."

The Gryffindor had a glimmer in his eye that Harry couldn't make out exactly. It may well have been predatory, even if the thought struck him as extremely ridiculous. Defiant was more probable, but one look over the whole of Ron showed a possibility for the former to be growing.

Harry looked at Snape and after a silent agreement, the teacher reached out with one of his extremely talented hands and touched Ron's shoulder. 

"As, always, Mr. Weasley, I'm rather annoyed by your talent of clear speech. Nevertheless, I have to admit that you tried hard to bring your point across. As I am in a holiday mood, I give you the advantage of the doubt as to your motives and award you equal opportunities for your try at insight into yourself. Pathetic as it may be, it is the first sign of anything the like in you and needs to be rewarded by a teacher. As unfortunately, I'm the only one at hand, I fear I have to substitute your head of house and do the – honours."

Given the chance, Snape could have gone on like that for hours, Harry and Ron knew as much. 

"Oh shut up, Snape", both roared and under their joint attack the teacher drowned in a tangle of arms and legs and bodies, and his mouth was desperately needed elsewhere.

For some time.

Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, put away the biscuit box that served as a kind of looking glass, with a thoughtful smile. 

Surly Harry Potter knew the ways of the Muggles. If they were doing things like that, it was necessary. It seemed that after all the Muggle world was not so very different from the Wizards world.

Plus, Severus and the boys could use every bit of fun that came their way. 

He chuckled and went to his meeting with Professor Binns and a very pretty girl in a painting on the second floor. 

Definitely. They all could use any fun they could lay their hands on in times like these.

And he just loved to let it rain.

__

The end


End file.
